Undercover (was I'm Here to Collect My Agent)
by skatoulaki
Summary: Ward is being held by SHIELD; May "visits" him regularly; Coulson has an unexpected visitor who tells him a story he has a hard time believing; and Billy Koenig shares a secret. This ended up being more than just a single chapter. All regular characters in here. Ward/Coulson/Skye/May/Simmons/Trip, maybe Fitz eventually;) TW: abuse
1. Punching Bag

**WARD**

Ward rolled onto his back on the cot and flung his arm over his eyes. He wasn't ready for another day in this place, wished May would take a day off. He swallowed, felt the pain in his throat. May's blow to the neck had been an unexpected twist. He should have seen that coming. Battling with the Cavalry had never been on his agenda. At first, he'd just deflected her blows, tried to reason with her, but she just wouldn't stop and he'd gotten carried away admittedly. He shook his head as he remembered – what he'd done, what he'd said.

Now, on the days when she came in, which were more frequent after the initial few weeks, it just wasn't in him anymore to defend himself. He just put his arms up to cover his head and let her have at it. Most days after she left, his whole body ached. He'd thought they'd at least be interrogating him by now, but maybe they were waiting for him to get his voice back, if that ever happened.

They weren't telling him anything; he was curious about Fitz's condition, worried about Skye, concerned about Simmons, knowing she'd be a wreck over Fitz. He knew they all hated him; the few times he saw any of them, he could see it in their eyes, the disgust with which they looked at him, the loathing. That hurt, but it's not like he could blame any of them. He was grateful for Trip; at least he kept May somewhat under control, stopped her before she got too carried away. They'd exchange a glance now and then, he and Trip, and the pity in Trip's eyes killed him.

He heard the slot in the door open and his food tray being pushed through. He didn't have much of an appetite these days, but he knew he had to eat to keep his strength up. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot, dropping his head into his hands. Headache, but he knew it would be pointless to try to get an aspirin. He caught the edge of the food tray with his foot and pulled it towards him.

**COULSON**

Coulson sat at his desk, reviewing the report spread out before him. Skye had taken all the pieces of information they had and compiled it the best she could, but it was still looking like a jigsaw puzzle to him. Pierce…Sitwell…Garrett…Ward. Ward. Every time the name popped into his head, he scowled. Of the members of the team, Skye was the most angry – well, May too, but at least she was working on her anger, even if only through her almost daily "punching bag" sessions in which Ward served as the bag.

But Skye, she was angry, full of rage. Coulson was worried about her, at the hate she spewed every time the topic of Ward came up. It was good to be in touch with your feelings, but it was better to try to work through them. He had hoped that tasking her with compiling the data would give her mind somewhere else to go for a while. Looking at the pages in front of him, though, her anger even bared itself there – photos of Ward defaced in one way or another – a swastika here, a large black X through his face there. He shook his head to clear it and moved some of the pages around on the desk. A jigsaw puzzle…but how did all the pieces fit together?

"Sir." He looked up to see Koenig at the door. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor—" His jaw dropped when she walked into his office, sat in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.

"Phil," she said.

"Huh." That was all he could manage to say. He tried to close his mouth, but found that he just couldn't, so he sat there, feeling stupid, thoughts whizzing around in his head. Was he hallucinating? Maybe he should call May in, tell her he was really losing it, that Project TAHITI was finally making him bonkers.

"Phil," she said again.

"Vic." He tried to regain his composure, closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, then opened them again. "Huh. You're still here. But Ward—"

"That's why I'm here," Hand said. "To collect my agent."

"Your agent. I don't understand."

"Ward's one of mine," she said. "He was working for me, under Fury's direction, to gather intel on Garrett."

Coulson slumped back in his chair, his jaw dropping open again. "Huh."

**HAND**

"Fury had a hunch," she explained. "Several years ago. He wasn't sure WHAT exactly, but something was amiss in the ranks of SHIELD. So he created a task force, and put me in charge of it. Ward was on my team. Maria Hill vetted him and brought him to my attention. Someone with marks like his, you don't just toss him out in the field. There were some discrepancies in his file, and when she started looking into them, things didn't add up. We had his family history, of which you're aware." Coulson nodded. "We had a probation order, a no contact order with his family, school transcripts from Eton Hill Military School; he graduated at 18. He came to the SHIELD Academy at 21. When Hill contacted the school, something didn't sit right with her. For one thing, all the reports in his school transcript had one name on them – Weaver – an associate of Garrett's. The other thing is where Ward was for the three years between when he graduated from Eton Hill and when he was accepted into SHIELD."

"So I met with him at the Academy. Asked him point-blank where he'd been since graduating from Eton, that something wasn't adding up. The kid looked scared. Genuinely. You know Garrett as well as I do."

"Yeah, he was always a bit uh—" Coulson struggled to find the word.

"Off-balance, Phil," said Hand. "I think that's the term you're looking for."

"Yes."

"So it took a while, but I got him to talk, and what he told me was a little…a LOT…disturbing." She reached across the table and put a finger on a page that was from Ward's personnel file. "See this?" Coulson picked up the page and scanned it. "Grant Ward never went back to Eton Hill after he was in juvenile detention," she continued. "Garrett visited him there, told him that his brother wanted him tried as an adult and he was facing 15-20 years in prison, that he wouldn't see the light of day again until he was in this 30s. He told this 15-year-old boy that he worked for a secret government organization called SHIELD and that we needed people like him."

"He promised him power and strength of character, said he'd turn him into a man and rid him of his weaknesses. He then dumped Ward in the middle of the wilderness in Wyoming and turned him into a survivalist, forcing him to survive or die. Garrett was that kid's only contact with the outside world for five years. When he didn't live up to Garrett's expectation, he told him he was weak and he beat him until he got the message. He essentially brainwashed and conditioned and trained Grant Ward into the ultimate fighting and killing machine, then disclosed to him that he actually worked for Hydra inside SHIELD."

"Ward had no idea that he'd been granted probation after the house fire, no idea there was a no contact order, no idea that he'd supposedly graduated with high honors from Eton Hill. The probation officer that had been assigned to him – an associate of Garrett's also. Ward supposedly reported to his PO every week and displayed model behavior, according to the probation records. That was all news to Ward." She smiled at Coulson. "He actually sat in front of me dumbfounded, a bit like you're looking right now."

"Garrett thought he had it all worked out. But what Garrett didn't take into account is that unlike himself, Ward isn't a psychopath or a narcissist. Killing doesn't come easy for him; it's not something he enjoys doing, and he actually tries to avoid it all costs. And once he learned the history of what Hydra actually was, the principles it was founded on, and what its intentions are, he wanted nothing to do with it. So throughout his time at the Academy, he went through a deconditioning program and he trained with my team. When he graduated, Garrett became his SO, just as Garrett planned, but just as we planned as well. We've been aware of Garrett's actions all along."

"Fury's hunch, our task force, now we knew what we were up against – Hydra – but we still didn't know how deep it was. Ward wasn't the only one out there, there are others on other teams. Hydra had people in our ranks, but we had people in their ranks too. Not as extensively as they did, but a few."

"But—Thomas Nash—"

"Thomas Nash _was_ working for Garrett. He was not an innocent man. Ward had to maintain his cover, and he had to hold onto Garrett's trust which was starting to wane. Garrett could see that Ward was becoming close to your team; he considered it a weakness, and he was starting to doubt Ward's loyalty."

"So Thomas Nash…"

"…was a low-level Hydra operative who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Hand smiled, let down a little bit of her edge. "I know all of this is a lot to take in, Phil. But until Hydra outed themselves, Fury didn't know who we could trust. I'm sorry."

"No, I get it," said Coulson. "I just. Ward— I guess I'm just having a hard time reconciling some of the things he's done. He tried to kill FitzSimmons."

"Yes, I'd forgotten about that. They were at the airfield, and one of Garrett's men spotted them. So he sent Ward and Deathlok to capture them. He had two options when he found them – kill them or bring them on the plane. With Mike Peterson there with him, he couldn't let them go without blowing his cover. So he did what he had to do and brought them onto the Bus alive."

"But he threw them off the bus, into the ocean."

"Yes," said Hand, leaning forward in her chair. "In a medical bay pod that was designed to float, knowing that someone would be looking for them. He gave them the best chance at survival that he could under the circumstances. Garrett had ordered him to kill them. If he kept them on the Bus, Garrett would have killed them if he didn't." She sat back in her chair.

"But Skye."

"Yes, Skye. The 084. She was an unexpected surprise. Once she joined the team, things became a little more complicated for him because he needed to protect her. The trip to decrypt the hard drive. It was never intended to go the way it did. We didn't expect Skye to turn him in like she did, but we could have dealt with that. Deathlok showing up; that we weren't prepared for. We'd thought we'd cemented Ward's loyalty, but I think Garrett was coming more and more unhinged by that point."

"That's why when you wanted to get on the plane, we allowed it. Ward knew you'd get Skye off the Bus, so we had Hill stall him to get you on board. That wasn't really your plan, but ours."

"He shot Lola!" Coulson stammered. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Sorry. Why did he come after us if he was in on the plan for us to escape?"

"I assume because Deathlok was on the plane as well. He had to maintain his cover and probably also wanted to see with his own eyes that you got OFF the plane."

"Ok." Coulson shook his head, then looked up at Hand. "Alright, what about Erik Koenig?"

Hand gave him a crooked smile. "Did you autopsy him?"

"Well, Simmons examined him. Ward almost sliced through the poor guy's neck."

"Yes, she examined him," said Hand. "But did she autopsy him?"

"No," replied Coulson. "I guess—"

"Call Agent Koenig in here."

"Vic, that's a different Koenig," said Coulson, reaching for the phone. "It's his brother."

"Call him in." Coulson did so, and a few moments later, Billy Koenig appeared in the doorway. Hand beckoned for him to enter.

"Agent Koenig," she said. "Arc Protocol 5-23-42."

"Of course, ma'am," Koenig replied with a smile. He bent over at the waist, bring a handing to his ear, and a "hatch" opened on the top of his head, exposing a mechanical brainpan.

"Huh," said Coulson.

"Koenig," explained Hand, "this one, the one at Providence, and others–are a model of android specifically designed for Fury by Stark Industries. Ward wouldn't have known the deactivation code, so he'd have had to rely on the kill switch, which is located in the neck area, actually pretty deep under the skin." She looked back at Koenig, who was still bent over with his "brain" exposed. "5-23-42 clear."

Koenig closed his head and stood up, smiling at Hand. "Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you."

Coulson sat back, a bewildered look on his face.

"Has Ward told you anything about Skye?" Hand asked. "Anything at all? In my last communication with him, he was trying to find out what Raina knew about Skye because we knew she knew SOMEthing."

"No, he hasn't said much of anything." A sheepish look crossed Coulson's face. "May fractured his larynx; he's—"

"Great." Hand closed her eyes for a moment, then met Coulson's gaze. "Can you have someone retrieve Ward please? We need to know what he knows."


	2. Open the Damn Door!

**_Just a quick, short chapter for now. It's been awhile since I've been so inspired to write, so when it came to me, I had to get it done! Thanks for the comments so far...fair warning, though...I'm not a shipper, so I don't know if I'll go there. We'll see. If I do, it won't be soon._**

**WARD**

Ward braced himself against the wall as he emptied the last of his breakfast into the small toilet in the corner. His head spun as he moved his way around the room, using the wall for support, and dropped onto the bed. He was almost sure he had a concussion. Today was definitely not going to be a good day. He heard a commotion in the hall and braced himself for another session with May.

**SKYE**

Skye sat in the recreation center, bored out of her mind. Her chin rested on one hand while her other tapped absently at the down arrow on her laptop, mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr messages. Ordinarily, when life was NORMAL(!), this was one of her guilty pleasures because there was some really weird crap on Tumblr. Today though, it was really just something to do with her hands. She was roused from her mindless scrolling by a noise in the hall and went to the door.

She saw May at the end of the hallway where it turned down towards Coulson's office. She was standing right there at the corner, apparently talking to someone around the corner that Skye couldn't see. May looked shocked, then concerned, then deflated. She fell back against the wall, her eyes searching the floor then looked back up at whomever she was talking to, shaking her head in confusion, before a look of despair settled on her face. Usually wearing a mask of non-emotion, to see May shaken like that, something must be up. Something big.

"Fitz," murmured Skye, and anger flared through her mind. She flew out of the rec room and headed down toward the cell block, encountering Trip along the way.

"Whoa whoa," said Trip, grasping her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Fitz!" said Skye angrily. "I need to see Ward NOW!"

"Wha—" Trip looked at her in confusion. "Coulson just sent me to bring Ward to the interrogation room."

"Yeah," Skye shot back flippantly. "So he could tell Ward Fitz is dead before he tells us? Not happening!" She jerked her arm out of Trip's grasp and continued on her way down to the cell block. "Open this door."

"Hey, calm down," said Trip, putting his hands up, palms toward her.

"I mean it, Trip," she stammered. "Open the damn door, or I'll kick it in myself."

"I don't know. Maybe we should talk to Coulson."

"Go ahead if you want. Coulson's down the hall breaking the news to May. Just give me the key before you go because I want a piece of the Nazi before anyone else." She shifted her gaze, saw the key dangling from Trip's hand and grabbed it from him, shoving it into the lock and pushing the door open.

She faltered in the door for a moment, a little taken aback at Ward's appearance. He was bloody and bruised, unshaven and dirty, pale. The moment didn't last long, and she sneered as he looked up at her, his eyes barely slits in his face. She stormed over to him and punched him in the face, surprised when he didn't put up a hand fast enough to deflect her.

"Your reflexes aren't what they used to be, I guess," she muttered and spit in his face, watching her saliva mix with the blood from his nose. "Guess May's 'therapy' has been working!" She struck him again, this time her punch sending him falling back on the bed. Trip came up behind her and grabbed her wrists before she could hit Ward again; she kicked a foot into Ward's leg instead, then spit on him again.

"Stop!" said Trip. "He's down. Just stop!"

Skye struggled against him as he pulled her towards the door.

**COULSON**

"Skye." She turned to look at him, and he was shocked by the utter rage in her eyes. Coulson motioned for Trip to bring her out into the hallway. Her rage turned to angry confusion when she saw Victoria Hand push past Coulson and go into Ward's cell.

"What—" Skye looked from Coulson back to Hand, who was bent over Ward, then back to Coulson. "She—"

Coulson put a hand on her shoulder. "We need to talk," he said.

"But Fitz. Is Fitz—" She searched Coulson's face. "Isn't Fitz dead?"

"Not that I'm aware of," replied Coulson, and a look of panic crossed his face. "Did someone tell you he was?"

"I saw May in the hallway, she looked upset, I—"

"Ah, I get it. You saw May upset, you assumed something had happened to Fitz."

Skye's expression turned to terrified confusion. "What—" She looked back into Ward's cell. "I was so angry…"

"I'm going to need your bio-chemist," said Hand. She had moved the pillow from the head of the bed, folded it, and gingerly lifted Ward's legs up onto the pillow. "I think he's at least got a concussion. By the looks of him, more than just that." Her voice sounded colder than usual.


	3. The Well

**WARD**

Ward looked up into the sun (light) and squinted. He could see a silhouette, someone standing there, but the sun (light) was glaringly bright. He saw Maynard (Skye!) raise a fist and connect with his nose before he could react, looked down to see blood falling in drops onto his hands. Confused, he turned to look at Maynard (Skye?!), but he was struck again, and then he was falling, stumbling, tumbling, his leg striking the brick side of the well as he tumbled, down down down, felt the water strike his face as he hit the surface of it, and then he was under, deeper and deeper.

He panicked, just as he always did, his hands grasping for the walls, trying to figure out which way was up. It was dark and cold down here, and he always hated those initial moments most of all, waiting to hit the bottom, which he never did. He never knew how deep the well was, and that scared him. He was afraid of what was under there, down under all that water. He felt something brush his leg, panic took him again, and he screamed. He had to force himself to calm down NOW, to pay attention to the bubbles from that scream (_you'll drown!_), to get himself right side up and head for the surface of the water. He reached a hand out to touch the brick side of the well, steadying himself, and closed his eyes, feeling which way was "up."

He kicked his feet, pushing himself upward, and sucked in a large, ragged breath as soon as his face breached the surface. He looked up, seeing the circle of light that was the top of the well, too far away for him to reach. Maynard's face sneered down at him.

"Hey, baby," called Maynard. "Took you long enough. I thought you drownded this time."

Treading water, Grant ignored him and felt around the wall of the well for the brick that stuck out a little more than the other ones. He found it, and gripped it, letting himself rest. He looked up again to see Maynard putting the big piece of plywood over the top of the well, heard him bang the cement blocks down on top, and shuddered in the darkness. This was the worst part. This cold, dark place, and not knowing what kind of monsters were swimming in the dark below him, and worse, knowing all too well what kind of monster was above him.

**JEMMA**

Jemma heard the ruckus down the hall. She didn't care. She was keeping herself busy in the lab, running screens on yet another round of blood samples from Skye. She was determined to find something that would help Fitz, anything. Fitz. She sighed and shook her head, clearing it before she started crying. She missed him. They'd been practically inseparable for so long that she felt like a twin missing her other half. She heard the door open and glanced up to see Coulson in the doorway. She forced a smile.

"I need to talk to you," he said. "We have a bit of a medical emergency down the hall."

"Oh," she said, standing up. He motioned with his hands for her to sit back down, so she did. "But if it's an emergency—"

"Well, it's Ward," he said.

She felt the color leave her face. "Oh." Even to her own ears, it sounded small. "Of course I'll help him," she said quietly.

Coulson smiled, pulled over a stool, and sat beside her. "I know you will," he said. "But we have to talk first and then I think you'll find it a little easier."

**SKYE**

Skye leaned against the wall outside Ward's cell, her thoughts reeling through her head. Victoria Hand was here. But she was dead. Ward killed her. She looked up as Coulson returned with Simmons, who pushed past them and into the cell. Coulson smiled at her, put a hand out to squeeze her shoulder.

Skye craned her neck to look around the door and into the cell. Jemma and Hand were bent over Ward, involved in a quiet conversation that Skye couldn't hear other than an occasional word. _Concussion, punctured lung, infection, internal bleeding, fever._ She let out a nervous breath and closed her eyes.

Whatever was going on here with Hand, she sensed that it was something big, something important. Coulson's whole demeanor had changed, and she could tell he was nervous. May too, who was standing at a distance down the hall, her mask broken. That scared Skye more than anything, seeing May wearing her emotions so plainly like that.

"Trip," called Jemma, and he entered the room. "We need to get Ward to the medical bay please. Carefully."

Skye was shaking. Ten minutes ago, she had hated Ward, hated him with a passion. She'd wanted nothing more than to see him hurt, see him suffer. Now…now she didn't know what she was feeling, and looking around, neither did anyone else.

Hand came out of the room, her demeanor cool as always, and looked around at Coulson's team. "I think you and your team need to talk," she said. "I'll go with Jemma. If we need help, we'll let you know."

"What do I tell them," he asked.

"Everything." She made eye contact with each of them and gave them a small smile. "If you can't trust them, who can you trust?"


	4. Are You That Broken, Man?

**COULSON**

He gathered them in the rec room – Skye, Trip, May, even Koenig – and relayed everything Hand had told him, starting first with everything he knew about Ward's childhood. He finished with Koenig, using the same Arc protocol code Hand had used.

By the time he was done, May was shaking, which was unnerving. Skye was crying, her face buried in her hands. Trip was stoic as usual. He knew that like him, they were probably all replaying old scenes in their minds, making some of the same connections he'd made.

**SKYE**

_Skye, I'm trying to protect you!_ That was what was replaying in Skye's head. Ward being cuffed by the cops in Rosie's Skillet, yelling her name, then chasing her outside. She remembered looking in the rearview mirror, seeing him just standing there, his hands on his head, and a look of exasperation (and desperation?) on his face. She had remembered it before, lots of times, but always in a different context. Always.

_Someday you'll understand. _That's what he'd said on the Bus after she called him a Nazi, and she'd told him she would never understand. _And I will never – EVER – give you what you want!_ He'd looked exasperated then too, his brows knit together; she'd thought back then he was worried about failing Garrett. But no, he'd been worried about failing _her_, about what Garrett would do to _her_, or rather, about what Garrett would have _Deathlok_ do to her_._ She started shaking again, and fresh tears streamed down her face as she remembered what Deathlok actually _had_ done, though not to her, but to Ward.

**MAY **

May sat on the couch and shook, shivering as if from the cold, but it wasn't cold in the room. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and relived every moment of her battle with Ward at Cybertek. She'd thought she was in the right, obviously, and for all they knew at the time, she had been. She had no regret about attacking him. She did what needed to be done. But then she'd done more. Replaying the fight in her head, she forced herself to admit that he had not fought back, not at first; he'd put up defensive moves, blocked her punches, tried to talk to her. But she'd have none of that. She was angry, she was pissed, she wanted blood. She had brought power tools into the mix, tried to take off his face, and he'd deflected that as well, shoving the saw into the wall – barely. She'd almost hit his face, could still see the sawblade as it grazed his cheek, and then like that, she saw it, the instant where his defense turned to offense, where his instincts took over, his rage got the best of him, and he'd started fighting back.

She shook her head, angry at herself for having lost control, for not just stopping when he tried to talk and cuffing him. _No no no, May, listen._ She heard him say it, saw his hands up, his face pleading, his foot nailed to the floor, just asking her to listen, to listen (_I nailed him to the damn floor and STILL wouldn't listen to him), _and what did she do? How did she react? She took away his voice. She, Malinda Qiaolian May, didn't even give him the opportunity to explain. She wondered now what he would have said? Would he have confided in her, told her that he was working for Hand? Would he have broken his cover?

**TRIP **

This was the thing about Trip. Trip hadn't been part of the team long enough to get to know all of the players as well as they knew each other. Yeah, he was Garrett's last…last what? Mentee? _Is that what I was?_ His grandfather was a freakin' Howling Commando, and his SO was a nutjob? He'd spent the last several weeks, since they took down Garrett, wondering what these people thought of him, if they really trusted him in their midst, this virtually unknown man whose SO was the mess formerly known as John Garrett.

He'd stood outside Ward's cell every time May went in, stepping in and pulling her out when he couldn't take it anymore, couldn't handle watching a grown man stand in the middle of the room and let the Cavalry wreck him. _What's wrong with you, man?_ he'd wonder, looking down at Ward when he would sink to the floor as he shut the door on him. _Are you that broken?_

It wasn't his place to stop them. Who was he to them? Looking around the room now, he wanted to slam his head into a wall. Why wasn't it his place to stop them? Why hadn't he sat Coulson down – last week, maybe the week before – and said, "Dude, enough with the punching bag routine. It's time to put him in the interrogation room and start getting some answers." Instead, as the new kid on the block, he'd let them handle it the way they wanted. They were a team, right? _No. That's not right. __**I'm**__ part of that team now. I've __**been**__ part of that team since Garrett outed himself as the Clairvoyant. I went into hiding with these people, fought side by side with these people against a man who betrayed them AND me AND everything we stand for. Everything we stand for. What do we stand for?_

Yesterday, he'd done the same as usual, watched Ward sink to the floor after he pulled May out of the room and said silently to himself, "Are you that broken?" Now he looked around the room and realized that Ward was not the only one who was broken.


	5. Climbing Out

_**Thought I'd post one more chapter for tonight and end on a happy note for now:) I'll see what tomorrow brings.**_

**COULSON**

Coulson watched his team slowly recover from the initial shock. They all just sat in the rec room, looking wounded and numb, probably as lost as he was at the moment.

_Off to a great start, Director Coulson_, he thought.

"Sir," he looked up to see Jemma standing in the doorway. All heads turned towards her. "Ward's got quite a few injuries, the worst being multiple concussions. It also appears he had a broken rib we didn't know about that had punctured a lung. That was infected and is causing a fever." She wrung her hands. "I-I patched him up the best I could and have started an IV antibiotic so that should start to help soon. He's been going in and out of consciousness, so for now I'm keeping him on a mild sedative so he can get some rest." She gave a small smile. "I just wanted to let you all know. He's not in any serious danger. Once the infection passes, he should be fine." She turned to leave, then turned back. "Well, physically anyway." She scurried out of the room.

Coulson looked at his team, all of whom seemed to release a collective breath they'd been holding since Coulson had laid out all the facts.

"I know this has been a rough day for us all," he said. "I think we all have some thinking to do." They all nodded simultaneously. "We look like a roomful of lost puppies."

"I'm ashamed of myself," May said quietly.

"I think we all are," said Coulson. "We've all made mistakes. Not all of them were our fault. We couldn't have known, and Ward knows that. We're human. Humans react. He knows that too. A few hours ago, we thought he was the enemy. That was the only information we had and so—"

"With all due respect, Phil," interrupted May. "It was the only information we had because I busted his larynx. That's on me."

"May." Coulson gave her a stern look. "Ward's a specialist. He knows the job. He knows the hazards of the job, the things that happen when you work undercover."

"I think—" said Trip, and all eyes turned on him. He smiled sheepishly. "I know I haven't been a member of this team for very long, but I think you all know each other pretty well. The reason you're all feeling the way you're feeling is _because_ you're good people. I agree with you, Sir. Ward knows the job. He also knows what it does to people." He turned his gaze to May. "It's why he's been letting you wreck him for the last few weeks without striking you back. You thought it was because he's weak, a coward, but it's not. Hydra's broken something in us. In all of us, even him."

"I can't imagine how hard it was for him," murmured Skye. "'Someday you'll understand' – that's what he kept telling me. I just—I—" She shook her head.

"We couldn't know," said Coulson. "We weren't supposed to know. We've made some mistakes – big mistakes – in our handling of the situation over the last several weeks. We've been tasked with rebuilding SHIELD. The old SHIELD made mistakes, and I'm sure the new SHIELD will as well. As long as we learn from those mistakes and don't repeat them…" He let the thought trail off.

**WARD**

Ward could hear Maynard up there, pounding on the plywood. His lips were trembling, he was cold. He didn't know how long he'd been down here. His mind drifted, it always did when his brother threw him down the well. He wished he was bigger, stronger. (_You're weak_, Garrett shouted in his head. Garrett, Garrett, he was dead). If he was bigger, he could reach both sides of the well and climb out, but he couldn't. (_Weak!_) He sometimes occupied his mind by imagining himself as a superhero – maybe Batman. He wished he had Batman's utility belt. Or maybe Spiderman, then he could sling a web and pull himself up and out of the well. If he was Superman, he could just fly out.

He heard a scraping noise above and looked up into the pitch black of the well. He felt something brush against his head and shuddered, then realized it was a rope. Looking up again, he could see that it wasn't actually pitch black; there were stars. Maynard was finally letting him out. He grabbed the rope and started climbing, pulling himself up and over the side and dropping onto the grass on his back, staring up at the stars. He closed his eyes, too exhausted even to get up.

"Wuss," he heard his brother mutter from nearby. He opened his eyes and was blinded by a harsh light. He struggled to move, disoriented, and felt a hand holding him down. He tried to speak and couldn't, so he panicked, sure that Maynard was going to toss him back down the well.

"Stop fighting, Ward," someone shrieked, a female voice. "Stop!" He heard a scuffle, tried to focus his eyes as a large shadow moved towards him. He struck out with a fist, but he couldn't control it, and it was stopped before it met its target. Strong hands pushed him down.

"Stop fighting, man," said a soft but firm voice. He tried to sit up again and was held down. "Just stop fighting. You're good, man."

He gave in and fell back, finally registering that he was lying on a bed, not the ground; he was in a room, not outside; he was at a SHIELD base, not home in Massachusetts. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings, sucked in a few deep breaths.

"That's it." The hand on his chest eased a bit. He felt something cold on his skin and flinched.

"It's okay, Ward," said a female voice. "I'm just checking your heartbeat. Just relax." He knew that voice. Jemma. Simmons. The other was Trip.

He tried to say Jemma's name, but all that came out of his mouth was a hoarse croak.

"Shh," she said. Her face came into focus beside him as he tried to process what was going on. Jemma smiled at him. A real smile. A genuine smile. He hadn't been on the receiving end of one of those in a long time. He let his head fall back on the pillow and let out a sigh. Something had happened. Something had changed. He didn't know what, but somehow at least Jemma knew he wasn't a monster. That was enough for him for now. He drifted back to sleep.


	6. Spilled Milk

**WARD**

Ward woke up in the middle of the night. This time he knew where he was, though he still wasn't sure why. Or why he wasn't handcuffed to the bed. The room was dark, only a few of Jemma's scientific machines providing a faint glow in the room. He saw her asleep in a chair in the corner of the room.

He tried to remember what had happened, had vague memories of a commotion outside his cell, someone hitting him. He'd assumed it was May, coming in for her daily bag routine, but for some reason, he kept seeing Skye's face in his head. And his brother. That was nothing new. He'd had to stuff down memories of Maynard pretty regularly, especially when he was tired, ever since the episode with the Berserker Staff. Randolph had told him it would take time for the effects of that god-awful thing to go away.

That had made things start to crumble for him, start to fall apart, the mission seemed to start getting out of his control. He'd told Hand; she'd told him to do what he could. They knew things were starting to unravel with Garrett anyway. Hydra or not, the man had been coming unhinged more quickly over the last couple of years. That's why he'd been so desperate to get his hands on the intel about Coulson's recovery. Still, the thing at the diner, that had been a little too close for comfort; the airfield with FitzSimmons as well. He had wanted the team as far away from Garrett as possible, but things had just kept getting complicating. He shook his head to clear his thoughts; all of that was over now. Garrett was dead. Besides, he had other stuff to worry about.

His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Ward lifted his hands in front of his face, gently pulled out the IV needle, and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He closed his eyes against a sudden bout of dizziness, then opened them when it passed, and dropped his feet silently to the floor. Careful not to wake Simmons, he snuck past her to the door and stepped out into the hallway. He didn't know where he was going, didn't know his way around this place at all, all he knew was that he was thirsty and hungry. He went to the right and moved down the hallway slowly, tentatively, keeping his back angled towards the wall. He stalked the hall as if he was entering an enemy stronghold, peering into open doorways as he passed. He saw a faint glow from a door ahead and the telltale sound of a refrigerator clicking, so he headed towards it.

**MAY**

May saw Ward enter the rec room, where she had been sitting in the dark. He opened the fridge, pulled out a carton of milk, and started to drink from it. She winced at the bruises on his back, the ones she could see anyway, the ones that weren't covered by the bandages securing his ribs. She got up from the couch and approached him quietly, not wanting to startle him.

"Ward," she said softly. He spun in a circle, the milk carton dropping from his hand, stumbled, and fell against the wall, his hands up in a defensive position.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, her hands up, palms toward him. "I—I didn't mean to startle you." The look on his face, she wasn't used to that kind of look on his face. On other people's faces, sure, but not his. Fear? Or was it just that he wasn't expecting anyone to be there? She took a step forward. He shook his head, a small movement, so slight she barely saw it, so she stopped. Ok, it was fear. _I did that_, she thought, but quickly shoved the thought away.

"I couldn't sleep," she said. She looked at the milk carton on the floor, the milk pouring out around it, took a step forward, saw him flinch. She gestured toward the milk and started to crouch toward it, pulling a kitchen towel from the countertop. "I'm just going to clean this up."

Ward hadn't moved from where he'd landed, leaning against the wall, his hands still in defense position. He straightened up now, moved around her, and headed for the door.

"Ward." He turned to look down at her. "I—I— can we talk?"

He shook his head, and left. May looked back down at the milk, closing her hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. The fear hadn't left his eyes. Even when he was standing in the doorway, looking down at her as she mopped up the mess, it was still there. _I did that_, she thought again.

**HAND**

"How are you feeling?" she asked. She pushed a notepad and pen across the table. Instead he ignored the notebook and signed the letters _ASL_ in the air, then raised his brows in a question.

"Sure," she said. "Learned it at the Academy."

_Good, me too_, he signed, then, _I'm feeling better. Still sore, but I'll live._

"I'm sorry," she said, her normally cold all-business expression replaced with one of concern. "For all of this. I know it's been hard, painful."

_It's the job,_ he replied. _Not your fault. Not my fault. _He paused, and she tried to read his face but couldn't. He looked like he was struggling with something. _Not their fault_, he finally signed.

"I read your report about Skye," Hand said. "That's all you know?" He nodded. "I—" She stopped, considering her words. He looked at her quizzically, waiting. "I'd like you to stay here. Could you do—"

Ward shook his head. _Would rather not_, he signed, and sat back in his chair.

"I know it's difficult, that there's a lot of hurt here, for all of you, but I've got nobody else to send here."

_They have Trip._

"I know," said Hand. "But Trip isn't you. He doesn't know all the players, you do. He doesn't have your skills."

_They have May._ She should have seen that coming when she said that last bit.

"Ward."

_Please. _He closed his eyes, brought a hand up and rubbed at his temple.

"Our team is a mess," she said quietly.

_So is this one._ His hands flew at this sentence, almost as if he was spitting the words at her with his fingers. She chuckled, and he glared at her. _What?_

"I didn't think it was possible to express tone so well in ASL," she explained.

He smiled. _I'm mad._

"Obviously." She leaned her arms on the table. "My hands are tied here, Ward."

_Good thing mine aren't._

"Aren't you the funny one today."

He shrugged his shoulders at her, feigning pride in his ability to entertain.

"I need you here."

_I know. _His face wore an expression of both understanding and defeat.

"Thank you."


	7. Easier That Way

**Sorry no updates for a few days. I was sick all weekend. I've sort of decided where I'm going with this story. Sort of lol! I need to do a bit more research so for now you just get "things." Also wanted to make sure these characters get some THERAPY! Woo!**

**COULSON**

Coulson flipped through the pages of the report, occasionally chancing a glance at Ward or Hand. When he was finished reading it, he dropped it on the desk.

"Ok." He looked at Hand. "So…"

"So," said Hand. "I want Ward to stay here." Ward fidgeted. "For the record, he doesn't want to be here."

"If he doesn't want to be here," replied Coulson, "wouldn't it make sense to not have him here? You have other agents."

"I do. And those other agents are on other jobs. Ward knows this team, he knows these—" She nodded at the report on the desk. "—whatever they are. He's the only one I would want here. If you disagree, we can discuss."

"Ward?" Coulson moved his gaze to Ward.

_If you want me to leave, I'll leave_, he signed. He shrugged. _If I stay, I'll do the job. _

"If you're not comfortable here, I understand. We. We weren't exactly fair with you." Coulson leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk. "What we did to you. That's not what SHIELD stands for."

Ward shrugged. _I've been through worse. I'll deal with it._

"May thinks you're afraid of her."

Grant shook his head and smiled. _It was 3 in the morning, I was thirsty, it was dark, I was just awake after two days in med bay, I was jumpy. Not afraid of May._

"Better man than I am. She scares the Hell out of me." Coulson sat back in his chair. "All I'm saying is, whatever this entails, we can handle it if you want to leave."

"No Phil," said Hand. "You can't."

_Different this time. I'm a specialist, not a team member. Just here to protect._

Coulson studied him for a few minutes, mulling his thoughts over in his head. Ward had joined the team as a specialist. _I go in alone, I get the job done._ That's what he'd said that first day. Coulson had watched him go from a closed-up silent soldier to playing Battleship with Skye and poker with Fitz, not to mention sleeping with May. He'd become close to the team, as close as any of them were to each other. And he, like May, had had to keep secrets from them. In hindsight, Coulson knew the toll it had taken on both of them, the difficulties they'd probably had, trying to keep things impersonal. May was a pro at it, she'd had a lot of experience. But he could see just from his observations of Ward while he was locked up in a cell these past few weeks how much it had taken out of him, how much it was still taking out of him.

"You've dealt with these," Coulson gestured at the report. "—these 'things' before?"

Ward nodded and put up two fingers. _Twice_.

Coulson looked at Hand, who raised her brows. "We don't know much about them," she said. "We've only encountered them a handful of times. Unfortunately, the other two agents who've dealt with them were killed in the HYDRA takedown."

Ward waved to get his attention. _I stay here_, he signed. _At the base. Unless you send Skye on a mission, then I go._

"He wouldn't be your specialist anymore," said Hand. "You have Triplett now. Ward's only job here would be to keep that girl safe from whatever comes for her, IF they come for her." She nodded at the file. "Your only other option is to send the girl with us, and we'll lock her down someplace safe." Coulson looked like he was going to argue with her, but she put up a hand. "I knew you wouldn't like that option, that you'd want to keep her here, and I doubt from the little I've come to know of her that she would like it either."

**WARD**

He really _didn't_ want to be here. He found he couldn't look anyone in the eye, and it was easier to just avoid being where they were. He spent a lot of his time in the gym beating on a bag or outside on the jogging track. Trip joined him sometimes, the two of them just running side by side, neither saying much. He took his meals in his room and spent most of his spare time there as well.

They each had weekly meetings with Dr. Liz Morton, a shrink that Coulson had brought in, recommended by Pepper Potts. Eventually, she said, they'd start having a weekly group meeting. _Fun_, he thought when she told him that.

"So," she said at the start of one of their sessions. "How are things going with the others?"

"Fine," he replied. His voice was still hoarse, but it was coming back.

"Have you talked to any of them?" Ward was silent, staring at his hands. "Ward?"

He looked up at her, shook his head.

"Do they know you have your voice back?"

He shook his head again.

"Why not?"

"It's easier that way," he said, and she could hear the irritation in his voice.

"Easier for who? Them or you?"

"Both."

She scribbled something in her notes, and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying to keep things impersonal this time," he said.

"That's understandable," she replied. She smiled. "You know it's not healthy, though, right? To shut people out?"


End file.
